


Arguments

by LeDiz



Series: The 48: StH 2020 [5]
Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)
Genre: Coping Mechanisms, Gen, It's not healthy, More like Sonic snarks at himself, Sonic talks to himself, but they're working on it, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23105998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeDiz/pseuds/LeDiz
Summary: He shouldn't have been doing it anymore. He didn't need to do it anymore. Why was he still talking to himself?or, Tom tries to help Sonic navigate his mental health while kind of freaking out himself. They'll probably get there in the end. Probably.
Series: The 48: StH 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641913
Comments: 11
Kudos: 210





	Arguments

“Ugh, you need to stop doing that.”

Tom immediately paused in reaching for the garbage cans, looking around for the source of Sonic’s voice.

It wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t known Sonic was there – as much as they were working on it, Sonic still had a habit of spying on people. It was just naturalised for him, finding little hiding spots and then sitting down to watch people go about their days. The only unusual thing was that Tom still couldn’t see him – if he was bothering to talk, Sonic usually made a production of showing up to get the absolute most attention he could.

“Do what? You know what. It’s creepy. What? No, it isn’t. You’re a creep. Well, I think _you’re_ a creep, ever think of that? That’s the point, bonehead.”

Tom frowned, recognising the altered cadence that meant Sonic was literally arguing with himself, using after-images so he had a visual to berate. Inwardly sighing to himself, he finished putting the garbage out and then slowly turned, trying to pinpoint the sound so he could inject himself in the conversation.

Maddie hated it when Sonic did this – it had been cute at first, when he just rambled to himself with reminders of things he needed to do and debated whether he wanted to eat strawberry, chocolate, or no ice cream, or when he was playing actual physical games with himself, like ping-pong or football. But when they noticed the ice cream debate turning into Sonic telling himself off for eating only his friends out of house and home, they realised it was less of a cute habit and more of a very, very bad sign about Sonic’s mental state. Maddie was trying to get him to stop. Tom was too, but they had very different methods.

“Well, it doesn’t matter whether you think you’re a creep or not, it’s still creepy,” Sonic was getting himself back on track by the time Tom found him behind the new truck. “People know I’m here now. People in Green Hills, anyway. They don’t mind a Blue Devil. So I shouldn’t be spying on them. It’s not spying, it’s hanging out! I can hang out with people if I want to! Yeah, if the other person knows you’re there. They’re busy! Why interrupt?”

He was zipping around in a tiny circle, and didn’t immediately notice Tom peeking around the back. He paused to gently kick the truck’s front tire, working out some of the frustration with his other persona. “If you’re so sure it’s okay that to hang out then who cares if you interrupt?”

He next appeared solid leaning against the bull-bar with an annoyed scoff. “That’s the real problem, isn’t it? That’s what you’re really getting at here.”

He went back to the tire to stare at his after-image. “What? What are you talking about?”

“You’re still doing this! You don’t need to be doing this!” the one on the bull-bar snapped. “Stop doing this.”

But then, suddenly, the first two faded from view and Sonic formed up over on the edge of the driveway near the flower bed, looking slightly embarrassed. “Oh, hi, Donut Lord! You… been there long?”

Tom folded his arms and leaned against the flatbed, raising his eyebrows in a silent response. He waited until Sonic was cringing before asking, “Spying on the town again, huh?”

“It’s not spying,” he said, spreading his hands with a shameless grin like Tom (and his no-longer visible after-image) was being ridiculous. “It’s… people-watching. Human watching. You guys do it with birds all the time; I’ve totally seen it. At least I don’t use binoculars. Now that’s creepy. You ever asked the birds if they mind you spying on them? Giving yourself ammunition there, Sonic,” he added to himself in a slight undertone before coming back to Tom with another grin. “Not that bird watchers are spying, they’re just… you know. Watching.”

“Uh huh,” he said, casually prompting.

“It’s not creepy,” he said again. “And neither is talking to yourself. Everyone does it. Everyone talks to themselves a little. Quit judging. You do weird things too.”

“I know,” he said, and Sonic hesitated, shifting awkwardly in place, his eyes flicking around and fingers fiddling with each other.

“It’s not like I’m crazy or whatever. I don’t think I’m two people. It’s just – it’s fun to move and – you wouldn’t get it. Being able to see yourself. It’s funny. Fun. That’s all. I don’t actually think I’m talking to anyone,” he said. “But I mean, who could blame me, right? Of course I want to talk to myself; who wouldn’t want to talk to me? I’m probably the most interesting person on Earth.”

“Oh, yeah. Explains why I put up with you never shutting up,” he agreed, and Sonic pulled back, pretending to be more insulted than he was.

“Do you have any idea how many people would love to be in your position? I am a cryptid of incredible origins; people have spent years of their life devoted to finding me,” he said, before his head cocked again and he pointed out to himself, “Granted, he’s called Crazy Carl and maybe that’s not something you should point out while defending your sanity, but the point is,” he said as he came back to Tom, “you should be honoured I talk to you.”

“Mmhm. You want a soda?” he asked, pushing off the car. “I’m gonna get one. Maybe some doritos.”

“The hot ones?” he asked, immediately zipping over to walk by his side.

“Sure, why not?”

Tom watched Sonic blur ahead and inside the house, wondering if they’d moved on from the argument. When Maddie heard Sonic talk to himself, she always pointed it out and asked if he’d like to talk to her, instead. While Sonic’s reaction wasn’t usually much different to what he’d just done, babbling about how it was normal and nothing to worry about and hey, is that the time, I need to go put a dog in a dryer (they didn’t ask where he’d picked that one up from. Probably a movie he’d misheard through the glass), it also usually guaranteed Sonic would go missing for hours after he’d made an oh-so-casual exit from the situation.

Tom’s preferred technique of not acknowledging it hadn’t yet developed a trend. The first time, Sonic clearly thought Tom legitimately hadn’t noticed, somehow. The next time, he’d loudly declared that Tom was in no position to talk given that he talked to doughnuts and usually ate them for talking back when they didn’t even talk, and then hidden in the attic for an hour before running out to get a six-pack of doughnuts as an apology ( _Tom_ had been forced to apologise to the Krispy Kreme manager and pay for them the next day, but everyone appreciated the thought). Last time, Sonic had just watched him warily for the rest of the day, obviously expecting him to at least mention it to Maddie and have it turn into A Thing.

Maybe this time he’d decide it was okay and they could carry on like it hadn’t happened.

“And maybe hedgehogs will learn to fly, too,” he muttered to himself, but just as he stepped up into the doorway, Sonic reappeared in front of him with a judging smirk.

“Talking to yourself, Donut Lord? You know that’s not healthy.”

“Says who?” he drawled. “Can you move? I want that soda.”

Sonic held one out to him without otherwise appearing to move, and Tom wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. He took the can anyway and stepped around Sonic to move into the house. “Besides, I wasn’t talking to myself. I was asking you a question.”

“Didn’t sound like a question.”

“ _Can_ hedgehogs fly where you come from?” he asked, cracking open the can. “Is this something we have to look forward to when you hit puberty?”

“I’ve hit puberty! I’m totally pubescent!” Sonic cried, only to make a face and admit, “I’m not entirely sure what it means but that movie with the animated spider-people talked about it so I assume it’s something I’ve hit before.”

“I don’t think I believe it, kiddo,” he said. “So, flying?”

“No, hedgehogs don’t fly. At least, I don’t think we do. There was that one picture, but I’ve never seen one fly,” he said, only to tilt his head again and mutter to himself, “Not that I’ve met a lot of other hedgehogs in a while. I should get on that. Not sure how. But I should probably do that.”

“No girl hedgehogs until we’re sure you’re at least sixteen,” Tom said cheerfully, mostly because it made Sonic’s face twist in that awkward way where he wasn’t sure whether to be touched or disgusted by Tom and Maddie treating him like their child. Tom grinned and took a sip of his drink before heading over to the cupboard. “What picture?”

“Picture?” asked Sonic, and Tom pulled out of the cupboard just enough to raise his eyebrows.

“You mentioned a picture. With a flying hedgehog.”

“I did?” he asked, then blinked, before thumping his fist into his palm. “Oh, yeah. That picture. It’s nothing. Just a thing I saw once back home. Speaking of things we aren’t talking about, how crazy do you think I am, real talk? You don’t have to answer right away. In fact I’m cool if you don’t answer. At all. Maybe we should just forget it. Let’s forget it. Okay, good talk, so can I drink your soda?”

“Get your own,” he said, even as hid his panicked, exasperated expression back in the cupboard. There was a reason he’d been dealing with Sonic’s self-arguments by ignoring them, and it wasn’t just because it was more fun. Oh well. At least he could distract them both with doritos. “And however crazy you are, I’m the one talking to you, so I’m probably not one to talk.”

When he turned around, Sonic was giving him that heartbreakingly grateful look he had, before he abruptly blinked and hid it behind something more concerned. “Yeah, but I talk to me too, so if I’m crazy, and I’m talking to a crazy person, that’s probably double-crazy, right?”

“Or it evens out into a sane person,” Tom suggested. “I dunno, man. I’m not a psychologist.”

“You helped out Macy when she hit that guy.”

Tom’s head jerked up and he gaped, totally blindsided by the observation. Not only had Sonic used someone’s actual name—a person he hadn’t officially met so far, no less—but that had been years ago. Tom had almost forgotten about those long months of late-night phone calls and wandering the streets in search of a girl who’d lost her way after an accident on the highway.

“That was just… talking, Sonic,” he said eventually. “Sheriffs do that sort of thing. It’s not like proper counselling.”

“I know. That’s what Quackers in the clinic is for,” he said. “But I don’t want to talk to him. Because he probably would say I’m crazy. I don’t really want to be crazy. I mean, I know I might be, and that’s totally not my fault, because you know, isolation. Not having anyone to talk to who isn’t trying to set a trap or capture you or experiment on you or whatever for ten years is kind of a thing. And I’m getting way better, obviously, I mean, of course I am, but I’m still creeping on people—it’s not creepy or spying, Sonic, it’s people watching—and I just talked to myself in the middle of a conversation that I’m having with a real, live, actual person who could talk back, and there’s something kinda wrong with that, maybe.”

Tom was a sheriff, and had been trained to be impassive. Being trained, unfortunately, didn’t mean he was particularly good at it, but he tried anyway because Sonic’s reactions could be both unpredictable and explosive. So he took a breath and ducked out of the kitchenette, heading for the living room in silence.

“I kinda thought it’d stop, once I had real people to talk to,” Sonic continued, trailing after him. He hadn’t gotten himself a soda, but did snatch the doritos from Tom before he could sit down and took up position on the arm of the couch opposite. “You know, the talking to myself thing, at least? And I mean, it’s not like I did it a _lot_ , and I still don’t do it a lot, but I always told myself—figuratively, I mean, not literally. Literally I said it was crazy and that I shouldn’t be doing it—that it was just from the isolation and I’d get over it if I ever had a real friend. But now I… now I do have… well, you and Maddie are around, but I’m… I’m still… maybe crazy.” His eyes flickered, glancing up at Tom for a second before lowering to the chip packet he was opening and then darting around the room.

Tom pulled his lips back, not quite sure what to make of the situation. Sonic was hunching in on himself a little, and his ears were tilting back, but he was still _present_. Usually, Sonic just ran away from conversations he didn’t want. Him still being here implied he wanted to have this one. But he looked so awkward and scared that Tom wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t scar the poor kid for life.

What was he _supposed_ to do? He completely understood why Maddie didn’t like Sonic talking to himself. He himself thought Sonic spying on them was creepy. But did he really think either of those things were a sign Sonic had gone insane, if he’d ever been normal to begin with?

…yeah, maybe.

Maybe a little.

But not… dangerously so.

It was more… He took a long drink of soda to give himself more time to think.

Sonic was a little nuts in the same way… Yeah. In the same way Tom himself had been earlier this year, planning to throw away his whole life (a good, well paying job in this economy; his family’s legacy; his nearly paid-off mortgage; his town and community that loved him even more than he loved them) for a chance to be a disrespected beat cop, just because it might have maybe made up for the kids he hadn’t had or the hero he’d never been.

He was a little nuts in the same way Rachel was, insisting all men were nasty, horrible people – particularly the men that wanted to marry women, because the one who’d wanted to marry her seemingly did it to steal her money, ruin her sense of self-worth, and leave her alone, scared, and with a newborn baby to care for.

A little nuts like Macy had been a few years back, wandering down the middle of the highway at three am, half-hoping someone would hit her. Because then she might not have to remember the man in the green sedan anymore.

Macy had been unwell. She’d needed help.

But she was okay now. She was going to finish college soon.

He put down his can on the armrest and refocussed on Sonic’s wide, shining eyes. “You know why I like to talk to doughnuts?”

Sonic blinked, his ears perking up a little. He hesitated, then shrugged. “I think so.”

“You do?” he asked, and Sonic nodded.

“It’s practise,” he said. “or… y’know, stuff you wouldn’t say to real people. Like that time you called one of them Wade and said it was a useless sugar-brained moron that needed to learn not to be such a stereotype.”

Tom paused, holding out his hand in a stop sign. “No one was supposed to know about that. You need to forget I did that.”

“Sure,” he said, and stuffed a handful of doritos in his mouth so he could be properly obnoxious as he said, “Forgotten already, Donut Lord.”

“Learn to chew, buddy,” he said. “But you’re right. I talk to doughnuts because _I_ need to hear what I’m saying. Whatever I say to them, I’m saying to me. Doughnuts are just handy because I can stick sunglasses on them and they kind of look like people. It’s a visualiser.”

Sonic’s eyes flickered away before coming back to him, but he didn’t actually say anything as he finished chewing the mouthful and waited for Tom to continue.

“I don’t know, it’s… when there’s a lot going on in your head, and lots of different ways you could say something, sometimes you don’t realise how it’s going to sound until you say it. So you gotta say it. Out loud, I mean,” Tom added awkwardly, and then made a face. “Kinda wish I’d been able to plan this one out, for example. I’m losing track of what I’m saying here.”

Sonic’s lips curved up in a slight smile, and this time the hunch of his shoulders looked more like a laugh. “I don’t know if I’m practising anything.”

“No, but I wasn’t really practising that thing you’ve forgotten, either,” he pointed out. “I was never gonna say any of that to Wade. He’s my friend, my deputy. He’s good at his job, believe it or not. Even if he is a massive walking stereotype some days.”

Sonic chuckled properly this time but didn’t comment, and so Tom continued, “But I was frustrated. I _get_ frustrated. And until I said that stuff it felt like it was going round and round my head and not getting anywhere. By saying it, I’d gotten it out. And then I didn’t want to say it anymore.” He paused, thinking back over what he’d already said and trying to link it back to his original point. He’d kind of fallen off-track, since his current point was more that he’d yelled at the doughnut so he wasn’t tempted to yell at Wade in some fragile moment. But there had been a valid point to Sonic’s situation somewhere when it started. He just… couldn’t remember what it was.

Luckily, judging by the more relaxed set of his ears, Sonic seemed to know even if he didn’t. “So you think maybe I’m just talking to myself because I’ve got too much going in my head?”

“Maybe?” He winced. “I don’t know what your head’s like. If it’s anywhere near the speed of the rest of you, it’s gotta be a pretty hardcore place to be. I mean, look what that speed does to your shoes.”

They both looked down at them. They were still in better shape than the pair he’d been wearing when they first met, but the once-beautiful red and white pumas were starting to look pretty bad. Sonic’s eyebrows rose, and he put down the doritos to instead pull one of his feet up where he could look at the shoe’s sole like he’d never seen it before.

“Guess I never really thought about it like that,” he said softly, and Tom shrugged. Honestly, neither had he. And he was pretty sure that his future self was going to think his present self was a little bit nuts for suggesting it. Or that he’d been reading too many self-help books.

So just for good measure, he added, “Or, you know, isolation. Talking to yourself to fill the silence. Maybe you were always crazy; I wouldn’t know.”

Sonic’s eyes snapped back up to meet his gaze, but he only looked worried for maybe a second before he abruptly grinned. He dropped his foot and grabbed the chips instead, scarfing a few handfuls before zipping over to dump the bag in Tom’s lap. “You know, you’re not half bad at this talking thing, Sheriff. We should do it some more some time.”

He grimaced. “Well, yeah… like Maddie says, if you need to talk, you can always talk to us instead of yourself.”

“Or a doughnut?” he asked, and Tom’s grimace widened.

“Yeah, okay, it’s topical right now, but can we let the joke go after this? I think it’s done.”

“Nope. Never. Not happening,” he said, and then held up his hand in a finger-gun. “But I might take you up on the talking thing some time.”

“Whenever you need, kiddo,” he said, and Sonic shot the finger-gun before stumbling back a few steps in a move that was probably supposed to look casual and not at all like he was feeling awkward about the whole feelings and conversation thing.

“Yeah, so, uh… cool. I’m uh… I’m just gonna…” He shot the finger-gun at the door a couple of times, rolled his fists through the air, and then disappeared in a vacuum that spilled the doritos all over Tom’s lap.

For his part, he waited to hear the door slam behind Sonic, looked down at his chip-ridden lap, up at the air in front of him, and then nodded to himself. Considering the argument he’d interrupted, the situation probably could have ended worse.

Slowly but surely, they were definitely getting through to the little alien.

**Author's Note:**

> The 48 are a collection of unfinished and/or unedited collection of stories on my hard drive that I slowly upload to Ao3 for the world's general bemusement. The Sonic 2020 collection is me working my way through an old Live Journal challenge called 15 Tables, that I heartily recommend if you can find it.
> 
> And finally, we return to my wheelhouse with DRAMA. Naturally, I used it to have two idiot boys to have a difficult conversation, because that's my jam. Next up is Fantasy, which is gonna be hard, but I'm probably not going to be near my laptop much next week, so who knows when it will be posted...


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